


Bob, Agent of Talon

by quartzapple



Series: Overwatch gets Things [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Double Agents, Gaming, Gen, someone please weaponise Hana Song's puppy eyes, yes this is a reference to Hydra Bob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzapple/pseuds/quartzapple
Summary: It was supposed to be easy. Work in tech support for Overwatch, subtly transmit info back to Talon, prove to his wife that he could hold down a steady job. Easy.Overwatch gets a Talon Bob.





	Bob, Agent of Talon

**Author's Note:**

> This was fucking weird for me to write because my own nickname is Bob.

Dave considered himself to be a pretty normal guy. He ate oatmeal with honey for breakfast, had a selection of neutral-toned ties, enjoyed cat videos and collected vintage comic books. His wife was called Allison. He grew up with a dog called Alfie but hadn’t had a pet since – mostly because he was also a member of a terrorist organisation and that really wasn’t conducive to having a pet. Sudden death or imprisonment for breaking international law weren’t really traits adoption agencies considered favourable when vetting potential adopters.

Thing is, he’s good at being a terrorist. Not in a bombs-blazing, kidnapping women and children, destroying cities kind of way – he’s an undercover guy. Being pretty normal has its perks. People look the other way. No one notices Bob (the most normal code name his handlers could think of) in tech support.

Unfortunately for Overwatch.

Tech support, Dave supposed, was actually an excellent place to put a spy. He had access to all the electronic data at his fingertips, so long as he played it safe and stayed under Athena’s radar. It was an easy enough job to lie about to Allison, who had been nagging him about getting a steady job for ages, having been under the impression he worked for a call centre. Plus, Talon had a dental plan. It was a much better position than the other agent he was aware of – poor Brenda (also a code name, he had no idea what her real name was or any other details about her life, for that matter. For security’s sake, the less he knew the better.) down in laundry had to deal with way more unhygienic conditions. If he played his cards right, he might never get caught. All whilst sending highly classified details of upcoming Overwatch sting operations and missions back to Talon from right under their noses.

He hadn’t, however, expected tech support to be so…hands on.

The first time he was called out of the seemingly endless behind-the-scenes rooms at the Gibraltar base was to fix an ancient video game console. The agent requesting the repair was practically in tears over her beloved antique, insisting that the PS4 really was the only way to play something called _Bloodborne_ , whatever the hell that was. But apparently she had a throwback Thursday livestream coming up or something and needed it fixed. This was apparently relevant enough to the running of Overwatch that actual support staff time and budget was spent repairing an ancient piece of low-tech gear ultimately for the amusement of the viewing public.

This report was well-received by his superiors.

“Excellent,” said a shadowy figure in a sinister voice. “If Overwatch is willing to waste money on such pathetic endeavours, it shows their true weakness.”

Privately Dave wasn’t sure what this true weakness was.

“Indeed,” replied another, equally-shadowy figure. “Such frivolous expenditure is a sure sign that our victory is imminent.”

Dave nodded along in vague agreement, and the check-in quickly ended. As tedious as the fix to the old console had been, it had been a pretty good test of his minor engineering skills. The look on Agent Song’s face when the old box revved itself back into the realm of the living was one of pure gratitude; if she’d known he was actually an enemy agent, she probably would have bashed his head in with it.

Or maybe not. She really did seem to like that crappy old thing.

Somehow this resulted in him being awakened at one in the morning by Athena with summons to the games-slash-movie room. He ruled out being discovered pretty quickly – they wouldn’t invite him to _that_ room if they were going to arrest him and hand him over to Interpol or whatever. It would also be a pretty bad choice of places to bloodily execute him, what with all the electronic equipment spread throughout the room.

Whatever it was, he had to obey. _Go along with whatever they want_ _and be prepared to do anything for our cause_ were two of the many things drilled into him by his Talon handlers.

He could, of course, run away. But that would blow his cover, which would almost certainly ensure his capture. Going along with whatever it was that was happening was rationally the best course of action. He took a deep breath. And then another.

The support staff quarters weren’t far from the room to which he’d been called and he arrived fairly quickly. The door was shut, but a dim glow still emerged from the crack between it and the floor. It slid open as he approached, tonguing his cyanide capsule false tooth.

(As modern as they were, Talon still had some love for the good old fashioned spy staples, cyanide capsule teeth among them. It was only proper for a spy to have one.)

“And here’s Techie Bob!” Cried a voice from within the room, swiftly followed by the cheers of at least two other people.

“Uh, hi?” He said as he stepped further into the room. From what he could tell, it was Agent Song’s usual vlogging set-up, accompanied by Agents Lucio and Tracer. They were all curled up among a pile of blankets and cushions on one of the sofas in front of the biggest screen, boxy old device plugged in and playing some terrible old game with painfully dated graphics. A box in the corner of the screen indicated they were live, comments from viewers popping up rapidly.

“This is the guy I was telling you all about! He totally rescued this poor old PS4 from certain death, and I’d promised you I’d bring it out for tonight’s livestream. So, as I am forever indebted to Techie Bob, as he is henceforth to be known, say hi! Come say hi, dude!” She punctuated the introduction with a snap of very pink gum.

All three agents ushered him forwards into the recording camera’s view. He waved a bit limply; this was the exact opposite kind of exposure he wanted. His handlers were going to be pissed.

“I’m Bob. From, uh, tech support?” He tried. In front of however many thousands of viewers it sounded extremely pathetic. ‘Bob’? Really? Why the hell had they picked him out the fakest sounding name ever? And now his stupid face was going to be plastered across the internet forever for being the nice guy who fixed probably the only functional PS4 in the universe for some stupid gaming vlog. Great. His cover might as well have been blown.

With introductions largely over, the viewers’ attention returned to the game. Agent Song seemed to be finishing up, leaning a little tiredly against the other two agents as her character on-screen somehow turned into some wriggling worm thingy. God, this game was old.

“And that’s a wrap! Ooh, and it looks like – yes! I just broke the world record for fastest completion! I mean, not like there’s any competition since this is probably one of the only remaining copies of this ancient game around, but still. Another world title is another world title!” She shrugged, smiling. A hint of exhaustion was beginning to slip into her smile. “And with that, any closing questions?”

_I want more techie bob!!!!_

_Can Techie Bob play? Hey Bob, do you play??_

_what’s bob short for and why is he kinda hot_

_TAKE OFF UR SHIRT TECHIE BOB_

That last one was definitely _never happening_. _Ever_.

“Calm down, guys! I can’t make Techie Bob come back but…” she paused ominously. “…if you really want, I can try the puppy eyes on him,”

Dave steeled himself. He was an elite espionage agent for the world’s foremost terrorist group. He’d killed dozens of men with his bare hands. He had been specially selected for an incredibly dangerous undercover hacking mission by some of the most dangerous people in the world. He could handle one diminutive internet celebrity-come-Overwatch agent’s attempts at _puppy eyes_ of all things.

Agent Song turned to him with a look in his eye that he’d never seen replicated in any other creature on Earth besides Alfie.

He couldn’t handle it.

“Okay,” his mouth said. Somehow his brain hadn’t passed on the memo to _not do this incredibly stupid thing that will put your cover at risk_ to his body.

And that was how undercover Talon agent Dave became Techie Bob.

“You must find a way to take the situation and use it to your advantage,” said one shadowy figure in its usual sinister voice.

“Be sure to win their hearts so that the Cause may be attained,” another ominous voice concurred, face hidden in darkness.

Once again, Dave wasn’t entirely sure how to do the former and was rather losing sight of the latter. He seemed to be doing a lot more actual tech support work than spying these days – either Athena (and by extension, Winston) was onto him and his security clearance had been tampered with, or he was losing his touch. Less and less vital information seemed to pass through his hands, and most opportunities to transmit it back to Talon HQ vanished overnight.

He was being called to fix random bits of tech all over the base, from an automatic hit counter to an alarm clock to a faulty comm device. It didn’t even occur to him to plant a listening device in the enemy comm. He was definitely slipping. It was almost like a normal tech support job.

It was like the base had decided he was the go-to guy for mundane technological support. He got calls to the tech support office every hour, asking for advice on slow tablets, how to make the televisions go back to normal after someone accidentally changed the interface into a script no one could read, what to do if the Watchpoint’s internet suddenly died and _no, it’s definely not a Talon attack just because the wifi has gone down._

The tech-savvy agents seemed to be greatly enjoying not having to do it instead. Hiring support staff was such a good idea.

(At least, it would have been if they hadn’t managed to hire at least two Talon spies. Seriously. God knew who else they’d hired that were spying on them, too. Or what they’d do with them if the base was raided. It was actually kind of a terrible idea.)

He’d also somehow managed to become a minor internet celebrity with the help of Agent Song, who now insisted he call her Hana like everyone else. Techie Bob was another frequent presence on her livestreams, along with both Lucio and Lena, both of whom had insisted that he call them by their names too, since he was calling Hana by her name and it was only fair. It wasn’t like he was particularly good at gaming; it was more that he wasn’t terrible, and his (partially) feigned reactions to horror games were apparently amusing. He could sort of hold his own. Mostly people seemed to want his input on their own tech support-related problems; trying to restore old devices after being inspired by the incident with the old PlayStation, the endless stream of people trying to make their internet faster, general confusion over easily fixed problems.

He got other questions, some of them deeply inappropriate, most just curious as to what he did all day. And he was honest. He even told them about Alfie and his rare Captain America comic collection. It was…easy.

His mission parameters had changed somehow. He was checking in less and less with his handlers, who seemed to be in turn checking up on _him_ less and less. When they did, there was a note of suspicion in their voices.

It all came to a grinding halt when he accidentally interrupted a transmission from Brenda. She had been using the secure link to pass on information about an agent – Agent Song, no less – being injured, thus becoming an easy target if she was deployed within the next month, advising on how best to engineer an incident specifically to exploit her weaknesses. He’d heard the word ‘kill’ in association with the only other living creature that could successfully replicate the puppy eyed gaze of his childhood pet, and that was…unthinkable.

No one who could do the puppy eyes should ever die.

And that was how Techie Bob had become Talon Bob.

The sudden interference with the feed, which, as it transpired, was being monitored by Winston who had verified Brenda’s identity as a spy and was collecting evidence as to that fact, set off every alert Athena had put in place in case said tampering occurred. It was immediately traced back to his computer and in less than thirty seconds at least five agents had him surrounded, cowering at gun-, arrow-, sword-, freeze ray- and hammer-point.

Defecting was definitely the best option here.

After a thorough interrogation about exactly what he was doing and what information he’d passed to Talon, he was, oddly enough, allowed to retain his job in tech support. Brenda was subsequently arrested along with at least two other enemy spies picked up using the same method – it was amazing how befriending enemy agents had a tendency to get them to defect. After a while, Allison even moved to Gibraltar, thoroughly impressed by Overwatch’s dental plan and her husband’s steady job (if not by the endless snooty British expats).

(This was after she’d spent at least four hours intermittently yelling at him _for being a fucking terrorist spy, after all these years of marriage you’d at least have thought to mention it at least once,_ and _no that does not count as a steady fucking job!_ ” Intermittent, because he was very good at running away.)

‘Talon Bob’ was at first, at least, a joke.

“Howdy, Talon Bob!” Agent McCree had called across the communal dining area upon his entry.

“Pass the salt, Talon Bob,” the grouchier Agent Shimada had intoned from across the dinner table.

“And tonight, we are joined by…” Hana’s dramatic pause was cut short as he entered the shot before the cue. “Talon Bob!”

She began a speech about how he was actually not just a tech support guy, but a double agent _evil_ tech support guy which was honestly patently unfair. Being a terrorist was a career path, and he was also genuinely a good tech support guy. He briefly tried to explain that his name wasn’t actually Bob, but that got waved away very quickly. It looked like Talon Bob was here to stay.

When Allison found out about Talon Bob, she laughed for half an hour straight and wouldn’t tell him why.

.


End file.
